Page 30 of Christmas with a Cursed Werewolf

"Miss Everly." Alistair's voice pulls me back to the present. "Perhaps you should take a break. Check the grounds, ensure the charms are properly placed."

There's something in his tone that makes me look up. His expression is carefully neutral, but I catch a flicker of... something. Understanding? Concern?

"You're right," I say, setting aside my work. "Fresh air would help."

The corridors feel different as I make my way through the castle. Warmer, somehow. More alive. Magic shimmers in the corners of my vision, like dust motes caught in sunlight.

Outside, the late afternoon air is crisp and clean. My boots crunch in the snow as I follow the path around the castle'sperimeter. The charms we've already hung flutter in the breeze, each one a small beacon of protective energy.

A low whine draws my attention. Rakan emerges from the treeline, his black fur stark against the snow. In wolf form, he's massive—all muscle and grace.

"Everything quiet?" I ask.

He pads closer, bumping his head against my hand in greeting. His fur is surprisingly soft under my fingers.

"I'll take that as a yes." I scratch behind his ears, earning another whine of contentment. "Though I doubt it will stay that way for long."

Rakan pulls back, fixing me with a knowing look. He's been Ronan's most loyal defender through all of this. Now that loyalty extends to me, something I never expected but deeply appreciate.

"We'll be ready," I tell him. "Whatever comes."

He huffs what sounds suspiciously like agreement, then turns his head sharply toward the castle. A moment later, I feel it too—a surge of magic, stronger than before.

Ronan.

"Go," I say. "Keep watching."

Rakan touches his nose to my hand once more, then melts back into the shadows of the forest. I watch him go, grateful for his silent support.

The pull of magic leads me back inside, up staircases and through corridors that seem to arrange themselves to guide my path. I find Ronan in the library, standing at one of the tall windows. The setting sun catches his profile, turning his eyes to molten silver.

He turns as I enter, and something in his expression makes my heart skip. "Briar."

"I felt you," I say, moving closer.

"It's getting stronger." He reaches for me, his hand warm against my cheek. "Because of you."

"Because of us," I correct him.

His thumb traces my cheekbone, sending shivers down my spine. "I fought it for so long. Tried to keep you at a distance, thinking I was protecting you."

"And now?"

"Now I know better." His voice drops lower, rougher. "I can't fight this anymore. Don't want to."

I lean into his touch, letting my own magic rise to meet his. The air around us crackles with energy. "Then don't."

Brave, Beautiful Mate

BRIAR

Ronan's kiss starts gentle, almost hesitant. But as I press closer, threading my fingers through his hair, something inside him snaps. The kiss deepens—desperate, hungry. His arms wrap around me, pulling me flush against him.

The library responds to our passion. Books flutter on their shelves, and the magical symbols carved into the walls begin to glow. I barely notice, lost in the feel of him—his mouth on mine, his hands sliding under my sweater to find bare skin.

"Briar," he groans against my lips. "We should stop..."

"No." I kiss him harder, pouring everything I feel into this moment. "No more holding back. No more fear."

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